Shadow Games
by R9-regrin9
Summary: Ender is the hero of the past that no one can forget, but that’s the problem. He’s a past figure, and unless he can come back to save humanity, he’ll remain a memory. The enemy is closing in and the time for war is once again on humanity's doorstep.
1. Chapter One

A/N: This chapter has been revised - I changed names after I loaded it up the first time. So now, this time, all the names should make sense with who everybody else is. I'm not sure about this new set up (been a while since I've loaded anything new here) - spacing for paragraphs seems to be a little odd.

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Chapter One

A full millennium has gone by since the attack on the Buggers world. The time where countries were one against the Buggers has passed and they are now on the verge of another world war, one that will undoubtedly spread towards the newly populated planets in the Gamma Quadrant. It seems inevitable to avoid the catastrophe, but things change when another threat to humanity arises. Another alien species, one very much like the humans, one exceedingly strong and vicious, one that is determined to destroy all humanity.  
With the early heads up of the upcoming attack, things go high speed. Countries are suddenly forming new alliances in order to create a new Interplanetary Battle School. Only this time, they have the time, for although the Corvedics are space-wise, they are new to the reaches of space.

"We are pleased to announce that the IBS will be up and running within the week. It is most likely that we will be recruiting for the school as soon as we get the go ahead." Marcus Render added with a laugh, "Which could be any time, knowing the board."  
It was a good day, and for skeptics, they thought that the battle school was the lesser of two evils. Sunshine poured down onto the podium where the board representing the Space Program was seated. A large crowd of over one hundred thousand had come none, apparently for shutting down the school.  
A portly man came over to shake Mr. Arben's hand, and he spoke "Well done Marcus. Our future does not look so glum now. With the mastermind captains that will be trained, the Corv's haven't a chance." His voice boomed out over the heads of the spectators.  
Marcus sighed and a slight frown marred his handsome features. Holding his hand over the tiny microphone built into his suit, he said softly, "Don't speak of the future, if you don't know it. By the time the Corv's reach us, it will be long in the future, we'll all be dead. The time for their expected appearance is at least one hundred years. We may be able to jump to them, but why bother when our space fleets haven't been manned in a war for decades. We need the time to prepare, just as they need the time to come."  
Then, removing his hand, he once again smiled brightly and rose his arms high in the air. "IBS; making our future a possible one."  
Cheers greeted this and Marcus took his leave, stepping off the stage and into the elevator that would bring him down underground where his private vehicle would take him to shuttle launch pad immediately. He sat down on the leathered seats and sighed, as long as the station was fully functional, humanity's future would be fine. For it was only there in the battle school that legends were made. A slight smile curled on his lips. Legends like Ender.

Howard snorted loudly and flipped the vision screen off, inking the screen a black, the live program of the IBS ceremony gone. 'Yeah right,' he thought, 'what could the battle school do? Ender was a fluke.'  
But who cared. This whole idea of the Corvedics coming to invade the human adapted planets was a whole joke. He rolled off the couch and groaned. Grabbing his roiling belly he crawled to the garbage disposal unit and relieved himself of the contents of his stomach.  
The entire bottle of scotch had seemingly disappeared and he gazed blearily around the room looking for it. Wiping the excess of vomit from his chin on his sleeve he hefted himself up and staggered to the kitchen. Rummaging through the cupboards and shelves until he found another bottle of liquor; his best friend these days. Scotch never told him he needed to get another job. Scotch never told him to go get groceries. Scotch never...

Hunter took one step into the rancid room and nearly collapsed as the aroma of stale air and vomit hit him. He stared into the gloomy area and grimaced, dad would be a mess – again. Tiptoeing through the house, he quietly began cleaning up. He found his dad passed out on the kitchen floor, another bottle cradled in his lap, not even opened.  
He felt like kicking dad in the guts, show him what real pain was. Not the pains from being drunk. Not the pains of a hangover. No, the pains of being beaten up constantly. Corey's legs and arms were black and blue, but he never showed anyone his pains. He always licked at them in a dark corner where no one could see him.  
Howard groaned and Hunter crouched down to stare at his father's face. Unshaven, balding and gaining weight. Hunter knew that his father was once a respected fighter, but then something happened – he was kicked out for apparently no reason, but Hunter suspected it was either for violence or for his bad drinking habits.  
Pushing his father into a sitting position, Hunter gently slapped his father to consciousness. "Come on dad. Time to get to bed."  
Howard chuckled groggily and blinked blurry eyes. "Ah, Corey. I hearrrrrd...zaa crazzzziest thing..."  
"Come on dad, it can wait."  
"IBSssss..."  
"Come on dad!"  
Howard somehow managed, with a great deal of assistance from Corey, to get to his bedroom. Then for the next few hours, Hunter settled into the familiar routine of cleaning house. After that, he'd get to homework. It never changed.  
At least not that day.

Two weeks later

"You did what dad?"  
Howard, at his soberest in months, looked into his son's shocked eyes. "I've signed ye up for the IBS program. It's a free education son."  
"But dad, how could you?" Hunter couldn't understand, didn't want to understand. "I'm too old dad. I'm nearly eight. You heard the announcements. The younger the better."  
Howard laughed loudly and slapped Hunter on the back, nearly sending the boy flying. "That's 'cause they don't know me son. You're a smart boy, quick, athletic."  
A burst of pride sparked to life in Corey, his dad had actually noticed the report card he'd left on the table. Not only that, but he'd obviously taken note that his son was doing extremely well on the teams he played for.  
"Well?" Howard hedged.  
"I don't want to go. You'll be all alone."  
Anger flared in Howard's eyes and Hunter felt himself shrinking back slightly, "What?! It took some bribes to get ye on that bloody list, ye know! I know you're too old, but bloody hell. You're my son. And you will have a military part in history. My family has been part of the military for five generations. You're next."  
"No. You can't live on your own."  
Before Hunter could react, Howard's fist came flying down, crunching painfully into his face. "You think I'm so drunk I can't even take care of myself?" Another fist landed heavily, "You just a little girl. A bitch just like your mother. Using me as an excuse. Grow up GIRL!"  
Not once did he flinch as each punch thudded into his body; his mind became clearer and clearer. A clarity he'd never experienced came over him and suddenly Hunter knew he had to go. He saw his father as he truly was. A lazy bastard who had nothing better to do than suck the money up through his drinks. Draining the accounts of any assets they had. He'd go, not because he wanted to, but because he had to. If he ever wanted to get away from his father, that's exactly what he'd have to do.  
Through the blood and pain, his voice came through clear and loud, "I'll go." Then as if nothing had happened, he walked away. Leaving the house a mess of bruised and bloodied flesh, but feeling as refreshed he'd felt in a long time. He was leaving. Leaving for the Battle School.

Hunter stood in line before the multitude of cameras set up at the launch site. He was the ninth in line, third row. He'd calculated his position without a thought - it was instinct to always know where he was. His eyes flicked over to where his father stood with other kids families. His face was clear of any sign of alcohol and his face beamed. He was proud of his son. But not for the right reasons; he was proud that Hunter was going to continue the military line in the family, he was proud that his son was going to go to the Battle School, he was proud of what his son could be, not who he was.

Eyes shifting back to the man on the podium, he concentrated on what the man was saying. "I am pleased to present to you, our possible future captains, pilots, commanders. These brilliant minds will be put to the test - it will be hard, it will be brutal, but in the end, they will be heroes if they can make it through it all. They'll be invincible." Mounting cheers grew louder and louder as he continued his speech.

Hunter on the other hand, snorted with disbelief. They'll be different all right, they wouldn't be the same when they came back. Look at all the kids who came back from the original Battle School. None of them ever were the same. Especially Ender, he never even came back. Hunter decided then and there, that he'd do well, but not his best. He'd do well enough to stay up there, away from his father, but not so good that everyone would want him.

The other kids around him were younger. At their young ages, it wouldn't seem much. But to the keepers of the IBS, down to the number of days alive would count. The younger the better - that's all there was to it. Despite his compact size, Hunter still stood a good four inches over most of the others. He stood out and he despised that, it made eyes turn to him - the taller one - and the last thing he wanted right now was attention.

Again, shifting his attention momentarily back to the speaker, Hunter began gauging exactly how many boys and girls were present here at this shuttle launch pad. In rows of twenty and going at least fifty back, he quickly came back with an answer. One thousand. All this was instantaneous, not even his teachers were aware of how brilliant he was. He never went beyond what he was supposed to. He was the perfect student, but they would never realize that he was beyond perfect.

All throughout the addressing, Hunter was constantly aware of the drift of the speech. And so when the time came for the children ready to enter the shuttles shouted back their rehearsed lines, he did so without noticing. And when his time came to enter one of the fifty shuttle pods that would take his row to the ship orbiting above, he did so automatically. His thoughts were elsewhere. Plotting his future and what it held for him without his father in it. He would not look back at his father. But one thing did shatter his thoughts, something that never happened. Despite everything his father had done to him and put him through, his father was still the only person he'd ever known. He looked over his shoulder.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter 2  
  
Calmly, almost in a state of withdrawal, Hunter marched up the steps into the interior of the shuttle. It appeared harsh with lines that held no warmth to them. Everything was of a nondescript colour with the small portals allowing a little of the outside world in. But it mattered little to Hunter, he would not care.  
He bumped into something, and on closer inspection, it was a someone he'd bumped into.  
A small shrewd face peered up at him, "You got a problem?"  
Hunter merely lifted a brow and the kid scampered off. His face was still bruised and his lips were probably a little bloody - the split lip kept on opening whenever he spoke. A few kids gaped openly at his face, but quickly looked away whenever his eyes scanned their way. All Hunter wanted at that point was a seat away from prying eyes, but the closest thing to that was a seat in the back corner, which still had a person to deal with on the side. He took it.  
Kids openly gaped at his face, it wasn't pretty, but it couldn't have been that bad. Hunter smiled a little despite the split lip, if it was really bad, they'd been running for their mama's. He could already hear a few sniffling into their sleeves at the aspect of leaving their families and all they'd ever known.  
"This seat taken?"  
Momentarily taken aback by the question, Hunter looked into an equally bashed up face. The kid's nose was broken at least once and a scabbed over cut stood out plainly on his cheek. "Does it look it?"  
"Nah, that's why I asked."  
Hunter snickered.  
"You fall down the stairs?"  
Pointing to his black eye, Hunter retorted, "This? Ran into m'dad's fist."  
The boy burst out laughing at the thought. "Good one. If that's the case, then the sames with me."  
Holding out a hand to make introductions, the boy announced, "Name's Toren."  
"Hunter."  
Toren snickered at the name, "Hunter eh? You going to hunt down these aliens too?" Hunter was ready with a come back but he noticed that his new friend's eyes were glued to the front of the ship where a man had just entered from the captain's cabin. "Be seated. We're on military schedule now and military says we're leaving in less than five."  
The man's voice was rough, probably a smoker in his spare time. Although he had a slight paunch, there was no doubt that he'd been fit in his younger years. Still was pretty fit, in fact. Walking up and the aisles, he ranted, "There are no mamas for babies up there. What you go up there with today, is what you'll have with you for the next five years. Nothing. Whatever you're given is not yours to keep. You are going up there with one purpose. To see if you're up to the challenge. To see if your worthy of being trained at IBS. To see if you have the guts to do what it'll take to become something more than the little shits you'll be here earth side. Do you understand?"  
A chorus of "Yes sirs" echoed through the chamber.  
"Good. Strap in, we're taking off." There was no arguing.  
  
_"Did you see the vids? Those two could be a danger to all the others attending the school."  
"Of course I saw them."  
"Did you also notice how alike they were to the ones of Ender's trip up?"  
"How could I not. What were their names?"  
"Toren and Hunter. They teamed up fast. Protect one another as you can see by the videos. That kid is paralyzed from the waist down. Broken spine."  
"Has he been sent back?"  
"No, medical team is working with him now. They figure they can fix him up good, but he won't be able to do anything rigorous, but he'll be able to walk and run – he will be almost normal – but in space he'd be useless. He'll be sent back once the therapy is complete."  
"These two, Hunter and Toren, the are similar to what Ender was."  
"Take to mind that Ender was different. He was dangerous but good. We don't know about these two. They've both come from rough families. I say we send them back."  
"What was their motive then? From the vids we see nothing."  
"Exactly. There was no sound on the vids." A pause ensued, "Fine. Keep an eye on them, don't send them back, but when they do screw up – you'll have no option but to send them back."_  
  
Hunter wasn't shocked at the attack, but he was surprised at how easily he'd been able to throw the kid. A very important lesson he'd gained from the experience. The force he'd exerted had had its affect on his own person. Fortunately, he'd had his foot hooked around the base of his seat so he wouldn't go floating about; because he'd been rooted, his strength had fully been put into his actions and had sent the boy flying against the bulkhead. The snap of the back breaking had seemed so loud compared to the boy's screams of agony and fear.  
Toren, on the other hand, was almost ecstatic, he figured that any sign of what he was able to do would put him onto some special list. He was especially excited about how well he and Hunter had worked together. They seemed to have been able to read each other's thoughts and had worked their actions that way. The injured boy was gone now, taken away to some other sector on board the main ship. Hunter wasn't too worried. Medical could fix almost anything these days – that, plus a good amount of money. What he was concerned about, however, was the fixed stares he was receiving. He hated it. He'd read the history of Ender. He'd been set apart, hated, pestered. It was happening to himself. He didn't want to walk that path, yet he was being forced to by means beyond his control.  
"Oiy! Hunter! O'er here! Got us some grub." He waved at his new found partner from where he sat at the cafeteria. Holding to trays of the nondescript food he plunked them down at an empty table. Taking one last wistful glance over his shoulder at the others who were kidding and laughing with one another, he made his way to where Toren was gnawing on something. "How can you stand it? We just busted some kid up bad!" Toren shrugged and spat out the mouthful of food he'd just tasted with disgust. "Stand what? The kid attacked us, 'member? Side's peoples are gonna talk 'bout us now. We gonna have a rep before we even get to the battle station!" He made to grab the roll off of Hunters tray, but his hand was slapped away. Quelling the look of distaste on his face, Hunter pushed on, "I don't want a rep. I just wanna be away from my dad. You of all peops should know that!" Seeing his words were making no impact on Toren he flipped his full tray onto his friends. At Toren's confused look, he said coldly, "Keep me out of your ways. I'm here to be invisible." "But not invincible." "No." Toren shrugged again, "Your loss man." He was on his own, but he felt the better for it.  
  
They had been waiting a full eighteen hours aboard the space ship that would take them to the new Interplanetary Battle Station now. A constant stream of new shuttles approached the massive ship, letting the new group of kids disembark and fend for themselves on the space ship. No one knew for how much longer they'd be sitting there.  
Hunter watched from a corner he'd posted himself at. A wide range of characters came aboard the space ship - that's what it was called for no one knew the name of the Space Ship. Some were frightened and clung to one another, others were bold and cocky, strutting around as if they were preening peacocks. It amused Hunter to no end that they would find the 'hero' that everyone wanted to defeat the Corvedics. They wanted another Ender.  
Hunter looked back down at the tiny pendant he held in his hand. They hadn't taken this away from him - and he would protect it with his life. It was the only thing that connected him to earth-side. Carved from an antler he'd found in Australia when he was only three. His mother had taken it and made it into a pendant. He would always have it - for her sake, for her memory.  
"Lookey here. Another loner!"  
Hunter's eyes flashed up and his body tensed; it was going to be brutal up here.  
"All by 'imself, with no one to save 'im. I say we make use of this, eh boys?"  
Everyone was out to make a fool of themselves, Hunter decided, they were all crazy with bloodlust - eager to show what they were made of. "Shut up. You don't know nothin'."  
The boy laughed loudly, making sure that his cronies understood his contempt, "I think I knows a lot more than you thinks."  
God, he hated this garbled language. He hated the slang. But he had to fit in, blend in. "Again, I says you don't." He stood up, this time glad that he was a few inches taller than the other. Cold eyes glared out and burned each face to memory. "You don't know who to pick on and who not to."  
The boy slapped his thigh and laughed the harder, "Oh, we got us a tough guy!"  
Hunter hated the laughter, he got it at home all the time. His muscles trembled with hatred and his fisted his hands by his side. "I don't want to hurt you."  
The laughter subsided almost immediately and the boy came forward, slowly circling Hunter, assessing him as one would a horse at a fair. "You really are serious. You think you can take me on. You know nothing!"  
Hunter lashed out before the boy could react. His fist connected soundly with the other's chin. Surprise showed up on the boy's face, then a grin slowly spread across his face - a sinister one. "Good, I like a good fight."  
Quick as lightening, the boy came attacking, pouring out blow after blow upon Hunter. He blocked most of the hits, but it was inevitable that some would snake through and make their connection with his flesh. From all angles too, the kid was good.  
"Beat him into the ground Troy!"  
"Don't give him a chance!"  
"Go Troy!"  
Troy. The name suited him. He was like the historical story - the Trojan horse, full of hidden strength. He had the power to hurt this Troy, but he refused to be pulled into the game and continued blocking. They were taunting him, calling him names, but he ignored them. He would not succumb to their level. He was better than them. He would not fight. HE WOULD NOT FIGHT!  
"Little girlie won't fight!"  
He snapped. He heard his father in those words and he could not let his father follow him up here. He fell into an offensive stance, combining his blocks with attacks now. A vicious blow low and a feint to the right. It was like a dance, both beautiful and ugly. Troy had lost his smug look, it was now bordering on the lines of fear. And still Hunter struck out, striking like a desert snake. Dealing blow after blow. He'd been trained by his father. He'd been trained military fashion. He was not going to lose.  
"Enough!"  
The voice cut through Hunter's crazed mind, but it wasn't enough to stop him.  
Troy backed away, scared to the bone of what Hunter had become, but Hunter still stepped after him, eager to finish him off.  
"I said that's ENOUGH!" Hands pulled at Hunter. Hunter's vision had become a tunnel - focused entirely on Troy, nothing else was going to deter him. Nothing!  
"Hunter, I told you to stop!"  
As suddenly as his craze had come over him, it left him and Hunter collapsed to the floor laughing maniacally. He'd won. And it had been so easy. He didn't have to pick a fight; they were going to come to him. More people tugged at Hunter, pulling him to his feet. A rough hand gripped Hunter's chin, silently demanding that he look the man in the eye.  
  
Hunter looked into the depths of the man's eyes and was at first amazed at what he saw. Not anger, but fear. Am I so terrifying that even an adult is afraid of me? "What are you?" The question surprised Hunter beyond belief, but his crazed mind formed words for him to say, "I am the hunter and you are the prey. Don't forget that." His mind screamed HUMAN. 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter 3  
  
A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read my story – a branch off of the Ender Universe. It's very rewarding to have the come back. To Speaker for the Dead3, I admit, its been a few years since I last read your namesake, 'Speaker for the Dead', but as I recall, Ender was travelling in space time so that Earth time was different. Thousands of Earth years had passed, despite him only being something around 30. So a millenium is still before the time that the Pequininoos were found. Please correct me if I'm wrong. Thanks!  
  
Hunter sat in the infirmary. The pristine walls closed in on him like a weight on his chest. It felt confining - he'd never had a problem with small closed in spaces before. He didn't understand, he almost didn't want to understand. Nothing was making sense to him at the moment - his reactions, his thoughts. My mind is not my own...those words whirled in his mind over and over again. I am not myself.  
"I am the hunter and you are the prey," he murmured those words quietly, how could he ever forget those words? They would be burned into his memory forever, and certainly everyone else's who was near enough to hear. They certainly weren't the words that he would have spoken. It was a joke on himself, or was it? He felt that it had more to do than just with his name.  
"Hunter Correlli. What am I do with you?"  
Hunter shrugged and stared at his tightly clenched hands in his lap.  
  
"First of all, perhaps you can tell me what that fight was all about."  
He kept his eyes lowered, he wasn't ready to face anybody yet.  
"Not ready to talk eh?"  
A slight smirk touched Hunter's lips, he almost expected her to add, '...well we have ways of making you talk..." He shook his head. He just wanted to be alone right now. It would be better that way, let him sort through his own mind before releasing answers he didn't even know at the time.  
"Hunter."  
He didn't respond.  
"Look at me Hunter."  
Reluctantly, he lifted his gaze to meet the woman's. She was elderly, but one would have to take a closer look to see just how old. Although her face was a mask of indiscernible thoughts, her eyes still were warm, the look she bestowed him almost fond – perhaps the look a grandmother would give a small child; not that he would ever know that look.  
But there was more to that look, it was tinged with fear, tainted with distrust, pity...  
"Don't you dare pity me."  
The woman lifted a brow inquiringly and flipped open a metallic folder and read off a sheet of paper, "Eight years old and abused by his given-father, given-mother is dead. Life-parents unaware..." She looked up at Hunter and sighed, "You are in a sad position Hunter. You have no one, and no one apparently wants you. It'd be in the best interest to fit in here as much as you can. There's nothing for you down there."  
Hunter's eyes let nothing of his inner thoughts out, but his mind was in turmoil. Given-father and mother? What the hell did that mean, and life-parents? The plural? The only parents he had ever known were very much aware of him, and he had only one now, his mother was dead. Killed in a freak accident. But life-parents? She was looking at him intently and he had to sift through his thoughts to remember what she'd asked him. Ah yes. Will he try to fit in? "That is why I came – to fit in."  
She nodded and snapped the folder shut, "Excellent." Standing she opened the door and held it open, waiting for him to walk through. But Hunter didn't walk through, something was troubling him. A memory was just at the edge of his mind, something of great importance. Seven years ago...something important.  
  
"Hunter," the voice whispered over the baby boy's blond locks of hair and he gurgled happily up into the loving face of his mother. She smiled back down at him.  
Another voice, deeper, called his attention forward, "Hunter, look over here." It was a man – his father, standing behind a set up camera. The man made a goofy face that made Hunter chortle happily and another voice to giggle. Hunter looked down and saw a boy with darker hair, holding onto Hunter's chubby hand – a brother, there was no doubt about it. The man's voice called again, "Hunter, look at the camera."  
Hunter gave a gummy smile and waved his free hand about. A flash, a blindness and then...nothing. Camera's didn't do that. Desperate voices called out; screams, crying, darkness...then a sound came and through speakers came the demand that father come with them. Military. Hunter could see the emblems being reflected in the brief flashes of light. His father was part of the air force.  
A man dashed out of the chopper and over to where the small family stood, "Captain Carl Bracken, sir, the new IBS project – protesters are rioting, somehow made a power surge in the fusion reactors. Whole country is out and parts of Canada as well."  
Father glanced at his family then to the man and nodded, dashing off to get his gear, the man who spoke to father, took hold of mother's arm and escorted her to the chopper, "This way ma'am, don't want anyone getting hurt."  
Hunter's eyes, even the dimness, could make out the fear in his mother's face, but he was too young to comprehend its meaning. "Where are you taking us?"  
"We'll be taking you to the center, with any luck, the generators will have been started and you and your sons will be comfortable." They ducked their heads and were lifted through the open hatch of the helicopter. Hunter's brother was crying, Hunter made not a sound. He didn't understand, there was so much fear, but he didn't understand it, it was just an emotion that he couldn't understand.  
  
Hunter opened his eyes, a fretful face peered down at him then away, then back down at him. The woman, an unfamiliar one at that, bit her lip and glanced warily around once again. Hunter gurgled and waved his arms at her. She smiled, albeit nervously. Scooping him up, Hunter got a look around the room they were in. He could see his mother, she was sitting down with his brother, holding him, weeping with tears streaming down her face. The woman holding Hunter turned and he could no longer see his mother.  
"Take him, Judith, if you can ensure he'll be safe, take him."  
Hunter felt the woman nod, "I'm sorry I cannot take you and your son as well, there isn't enough room. But your son will be safe where I take him. I'll take care of him."  
A large boom overhead shook the underground center, causing the lights to flicker. The woman looked around her anxiously, then back to his mother.  
His mother was sobbing, holding her terrified son. She sighed, regaining her composure and answered shakily, "Yes. Tell your brother, Howard, that Carl and I will be forever in his debt."  
The woman holding him, shushed Hunter's mother and replied, "Howard told me long ago that he owed Carl – something that happened in the army long ago. He considers this to be paying his debt. I just wish there was more room on his chopper."  
"Thank you." After a moment, his mother added quietly, "You know how vital his survival is – he's the key."  
"You mean to our survival."  
"To our survival," his mother agreed. Another boom above and this time, the lights stayed out.  
  
Judith was a good mother, to Hunter, she was the only mother he would remember, for it was she who raised him as her own and taught him despite the countries on the verge of war. Howard had dropped them off at Judith's home in Australia and had made for his own property's leaving his sister to fend for his friend's son. For now, Australia was one of the safest places for them – one of the neutral countries. But even that didn't last long, the country, as all others were, was eventually dragged into the politics and troubles of war and once again, Judith and Hunter were on the run, this time running to the remote place that Howard called home.  
Howard was an ex-military man. One who didn't have any medals of honour to wear, but an excess of tales to tell of his bravery, of course there were none who could argue him. It was obvious to anyone who saw the brother and sister together that there was no love between them, they often broke into fights that lasted deep into the night that usually ended with Howard storming out of the house and into the woods. They may have worried about the care of Hunter, but they cast their concerns aside for the boy – there was plenty of love and care lavished on Hunter by Judith. Howard, on the other hand, just tolerated the boy. But despite his indifference to Hunter, he still took the young boy out on long walks through the woods. Nobody knew where they went or why Howard took him, but he did.  
It was also obvious that Howard's toleration didn't spread to his sister. For it was on one of these walks through the woods that the cabin they had lived in exploded; a propane leak was the explanation – Judith had been inside the cabin. Hunter was three at the time.  
By the time that Hunter was four, the world was the world was balancing on a truce made by the warring countries – they still hadn't broken into an outright war with one another, just probes against the other. With the momentary peace, families came out of hiding and returned to the cities where they could once again enjoy the luxuries of city-life, but there was always the underlying fear that the truce would be broken and the warring countries would break into a full world war.  
With the liquor stores so handy now, Howard lost little time in losing himself in his drink, and this was often how little Hunter found him when he returned from school – it was a habit that Howard never broke.  
  
"The entire ship is waiting for us, Hunter. We can't make the jump to light speed until we are safely secured." The woman peered quizzically down at Hunter through her glasses, something that one didn't see very often. Operations could fix any persons vision till it was perfect or beyond.  
"They can wait."  
Rather sarcastically, she laughed, "Just for you?"  
He ignored her question and asked, "What happened to my life- parents?"  
The woman didn't hide her shock as she sat down in her seat once again and flipped open her folder, scanning through papers there, she read over a few of them. "What do you know of them?"  
Hunter looked down to his clasped hands and took a deep breath, this seemed almost too easy. He was asking and they were simply going to answer. "My father was part of the military. I had a brother, he was older than me. My mother, I don't remember much of her...I can still hear her voice."  
"Any names?"  
Hunter frowned and looked up, "Carl, my life-parent, he was a friend of my dad's..." he paused, swallowed and corrected himself, "I mean, he was a friend to the man I've always known as my dad. Howard was Judith's sister, it was she who took me to safety." He neglected to say the reason. It was still too strange that such a memory would come back to him so clearly. Perhaps it was only a dream.  
"Ah, Captain Carl Bracken."  
No dream.  
"Your life-parents are fine."  
Hunter waited for the woman to say more. But she merely pulled out a pen and began to write in her folder. "Is that it? Won't you tell me anything else?"  
She looked up and pushed her glasses up her nose, "Hunter, it is apparent to me that you already have a greater idea of who your family is than we expected. I don't think there is any other need to tell you more." She uncrossed her legs and once again stood. Walking over to a computer she voice commanded some files be brought up. All this, Hunter watched with keen eyes, hoping that she'd reveal more.  
Glancing over her shoulder, the woman asked, "What else do you remember?"  
Going through his flashback, Hunter picked through it and described it to her. Perhaps if he revealed something about what he knew, then she'd do the same for him. Legs dangling off the table, Hunter appeared to be a boy recounting a story he had read or something of the like. And it was that, a story, but...the woman's frown deepened, but this was no story he'd read. Nor was it a story that had ever been recorded. In fact, very few knew of it – for it was a story that a child of not even one had remembered.  
Hunter lifted his brows, waiting, hoping for an answer, but no answer came forth and none was offered. He waited until the seconds seemed like hours.  
"Hunter," hope flared in his heart, "it's time you got to the seating base room," and sank like lead in water.  
  
No, no more answers here. He frowned to show his dislike at being dismissed like this, but slid off the table and said nothing. This wouldn't be the last he'd see of her. He'd make sure of it – she had answers that he wanted. This was no longer a place where he could blend in and hide from Howard, this was now a place where he could find answers.  
  
"He knows."  
"How much?"  
"He knows about you."  
"How?"  
"I don't know. But he knows his worth. That he's a key in this game we're playing."  
"You think of this as a game?"  
"Survival is a game." 


	4. Chapter Four

A/N: Ok, I think I've mentioned this in other fic's, but I really hate the new set up (spaces between paragraphs, not being able to put in the extra space between scenes and not being able to use symbols such as the asterix etc) so, I've used (-) - one of the few symbols to go through - to break up the scenes.

* * *

Chapter Four 

Of the thousands of seats arranged in row upon row, there was only one to be empty. One specifically for him. Glancing around, the occupants of the filled seats stared at him. Some in disdain, others in boredom, but a great many of them stared at him in fear. Word had gotten around, and it wouldn't be long till everyone had heard of what he'd done to Troy. A light blinked in the distance and a voice boomed out through speakers, "Hunter Correlli: section five, row eighty-six, seat number nine." The directions didn't come again. As he made his way to his seat, he could feel the glares burning his back – it wasn't a comfortable feeling – none met his eye.

His seat was not hard to find, especially with the light beacon flashing until he activated the buckles that fastened him in. The two boys on either side of him had avoided contact and had pulled away when he had accidentally brushed against them.

Hunter offered them a weak smile, just to prove that he wasn't an ogre, but if they saw it, they never returned the gesture. If anything, their scowls deepened. Hunter sighed and settled in for the trip, his frame felt cramped in the seats; although small and compact, he obviously was still larger than the average kid. He was set apart, but it hadn't always been that way. Far from it, but that was all before his father had come into the picture...and now he remembered.

-

"_After that incident I'm surprised you didn't send him earthside."_

_"One thing you'll notice about me is that I see things that the others don't in kids," Marcus replied coolly._

_Lieutenant Crag sniffed and looked down his long hook nose at Marcus's holographic image, "If anyone gets hurt up there they come back – you know the rules...hell, you wrote the rules!"_

_Marcus laughed outright at this, "Of course I did, I wrote them so I could break them."_

_"The boy."_

_"Hunter."_

_"Yes, of course. What happened to his friend? That other fellow."_

_"Toren."_

_"That's the one."_

_"I don't know, but I suspect that Hunter didn't approve of him."_

_A long pause ensued then Crag sighed, "Next time something like this happens, your going to have to send him back, he'll be endangering the others. The mail censors can't block everything the kids say out and something's going slip."_

_"Of couse."_

_-_

Hunter felt the rumbling of the jets through his entire body, but other than that small tell tale sign, nothing else proved that they were actually moving. He didn't understand why they were required to be belted in. In fact, even the rumbling seemed to disappear after a time. It came apparent only when Hunter noticed his straps floating about – there was no gravity.

The trip was short, but that didn't tell how much distance they'd covered. No one ever told any one the whereabouts of the IBS. And if anyone did find out where it was located, they were often found and dealt with – quietly.

"Now approaching the IBS."

Hunter watched as some kids began to squirm in their seats, this was it. The beginning of the road to fame, for that's what they all thought this was. A game to become a famous warrior of space. The boy next to him, who in his excitement forgot who Hunter was and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Aren't you excited?"

Hunter looked and saw the innocence of childhood still lingering in the boy's clear eyes. The kid was pudgy and had round cheeks; he'd never been hungry, nor forgotten by his family. "No."

The boy's face fell slightly, eager as he was to find someone to share his enthusiasm with, he asked, "Why not? Everybody else is."

Smirking, Hunter replied, "I'm not everybody else."

Watching the reaction on the boy's face, Hunter almost felt like a bully. He was so much older and bigger than these kids. His emotions were more developed as was his mind and body. They were so much different from him. Innocent. As he'd once been. Fists clenching and body tensing, Hunter allowed a little anger to ignite within. Innocence, something that even a boy his age should still have some of. He'd been robbed of it. His father, his given-father, his guardian – Howard, had taken it. What had changed him? He needed answers.

Breaking his thoughts, the boy sneered, "No, you're not. You're the 'hunter' and we're the 'prey'. You really are a freak." Ah, not so innocent as he'd thought. Just as sharp as he was.

"You got it." He didn't bother to explain that those words were not his own.

Another announcement came through, "The Atrox is now hooked with the IBS." Rising cheers greeted this announcement. The telling click of harnesses disconnecting washed over Hunter as he felt the pressure ease across his chest. Pushing the harness away from his body, Hunter pulled himself from his seat and made his way slowly towards the exits plainly marked. The others made a mad dash for them, impatient to get onto the IBS.

Atrox, that must be the name of the ship, Hunter thought it an odd name for them to choose. Its meaning was not, in the kindest words, in the favour of humanity. Terrible.

He smirked, his difference in age from the others was showing, where they rushed to exit, he walked slowly, but with confidence. Those behind him, noticed his control over emotions and attempted to copy him, but their excitement was too much contain and the ended up doing a sort of skip where they had a few slow steps interrupted by one or two quick steps.

The magnitude of the structure Hunter walked into didn't show, low ceilings made up every corridor. Despite the rumours that it was over twice the size of the original Battle Station, you certainly couldn't see that from the inside. Kids crowded one another in the eagerness to claim a room for them and their friends, sprinting down the corridors in attempt to find an unclaimed room. Obviously there had been another ship load of kids earlier, not many rooms were completely unoccupied.

Hunter mentally shook his head at their folly, it was a stupid notion to make attachments to anyone in this stage of the game. For in this game, the players had still yet to be chosen, no person was yet given a guaranteed position here on the IBS. They had to be tested.

Pushing from behind, Hunter was rushed along with the flow of the crowd. In this aspect alone, Hunter decided that the architects of this structure were fools for not preparing halls for a bunch of enthusiastic kids. They were too narrow for the masses. Manoeuvring through the kids till he'd reached the edge, Hunter ducked into the first room door way he came to, uncaring whether or not he was welcome.

Eyes darted up from their games of Choka, a dice game, and inspected the new comer. Yes, there was definitely a ship that had previously docked here. These kids were more adapted, more comfortable with their environment and definitely lacking the excitement the others just outside the door had.

Nodding to those who met his eyes, Hunter stood awkwardly for a moment then made to the back to the room. He had almost made it too, when a hand stalled him.

"Hold it."

Hunter eyed the hand, then followed it up to the face. "If you want my name, just ask."

The boy raised a brow in question.

"Hunter."

"That you're real name or just a new name you made up to sound tough."

"My real one."

The boy smiled, almost a pretty smile but for the two missing front teeth. "Well I have a dull a name as you can get. Daryl." He held out his hand to shake Hunter's which he accepted graciously.

Another boy nearby snickered and stopped shaking the die he held in his hand, "That's Daryl, as in a girl named Daryl." The others laughed and nudged the speaker to throw the die.

Turning back to Daryl, it was Hunter's turn to raise a brow. Daryl grinned and winked, "Damn right I am." She shook her head to show her short locks that had led Hunter to his mistake. "But don't you worry, I'm tougher than grit, and I'm way better than these guys here too." When the others protested she shrugged, "Well don't deny it, I fought and beat you all at the arm wrestling for top bunk at the front."

Hunter snorted, but wisely refrained from saying anything.

The door slid open and a breathless boy staggered in. Hand to heart he exclaimed loudly, "Well hell, another ship came, and to say it politely, it's a real challenge just to get from the bloody bathrooms to here." He sighed and flopped on one of the beds closer to the front. Hunter was about to do the same on an empty bed when the boy opened continued, "Heard some mighty disturbing news though, apparently, one kid had a nasty fight."

"Aw Sean, give a hold on that lolling tongue of yours, you say that about every ship that has come in."

Propping his head on a hand, Sean replied seriously, "Yeah, well this time I'm not kidding."

"There's a rotter for every load that comes in."

Hunter quietly explored the shelves and cabinets assigned to him while listening to what was being said up front.

"I'm telling ya, more than half this load is terrified of him and the other part doesn't know what to think of him. If you ask me, this time it's for real. There's a psycho on board." It was obvious that Sean was deeply disturbed by this news.

"Oh for God's sake, just quit it, alright?"

"Listen, I don't want to be 'Ender Pulp.'" At the questioning glances he received, he gave an exasperated sigh and exclaimed, "Haven't you read the history of the original battle station? A lot of it's there, but you have to do a lot of rooting on the nets to get the facts straight. But Ender did a lot of damage. Killed a guy up here with his bare hands and other guy was bigger than Ender too!"

That got some respected silence until someone shouted out, "Well, did you catch a name this time to attach to this guy's face?"

Sean looked smug for a moment, "Yeah, actually I did. The name's Hunter Correlli." Flipping on his wrist computer he accessed a file and had it projected on the wall. Another moment passed while they studied the picture. "He ain't a tough looking guy really," Sean mused aloud, "but that don't mean nothing."

Daryl had already put A and B together and called to the back of the room where Hunter was sealing his outfit on. "Hey Hunter, what did you say your last name was?"

"I didn't."

"So what is it?"

Hunter contemplated telling them a lie, but then thought better of it. After all, how many 'Hunter's' could there be? Nodding towards the displayed picture of him, he said, "That's me." Startled gasps followed this revelation, but Daryl surprised him and snorted, "Aw come on, didn't you guys guess that already?"

Sean had sat up and peered down the dimly lit room to the back where Hunter was sitting, "Oh you've got to be kidding me! We've got that monster in here with us? He's going to slit our throats while we sleep, you mark my words!" Twisting the folded sheet in his hand, Sean worried at the material until it ripped. No one had argued what he'd said.

Clearing his throat, Hunter stood and stiffly faced the group, "If you're uncomfortable with my being here, I'll leave. It's easy enough." He waited for them to say something...anything, but nothing but the hum of distant machinery could be heard. Disappointment gnawed at his gut, he'd expected for Daryl to at least to stand up for him. But then, his mind hardening, they'd only met moments before. Her loyalty would lie with those she was most familiar with.

Teeth clenched, Hunter walked silently down the rows of bunks to the door. But it was different when he walked by these people. They didn't look away from him even when he met their questioning glances, surely that meant something.

"Hunter Correlli – we've got _the_ Hunter Correlli in our room! Damn if the others won't be just envious of us!"

Hunter spun around to see if he could catch who'd said that, but it didn't matter, everyone was nodding in agreement. Even Sean, much to Hunter's amazement was nodding reflectively. Obviously, they were thinking of something that Hunter couldn't understand.

Daryl grinned that boyish grin of hers and pointed to the bed he'd just left, "Now get back to your post soldier, that's an order!" Hunter smiled and felt a great weight being lifted off his chest with the laughter that rose around him.

-

It would be hectic on the IBS for the first months, give or take a few. There would be a constant flow of incoming kids and outgoing. Marcus felt that in order to see the best traits and characteristics in kids was to put them in the real situation that they'd be learning in. And so, despite the millions it cost for every trip that brought another load of children to the IBS, he had a constant fifteen thousand living and learning under his control. They were to be the best of the best. He had time to be picky, after all, the Corvedics weren't coming for another century or so.

Those who were even slightly under the norm were sent home; a steady flow, much like the rivers on Earth that people were trying desperately hard to keep.

A beeping interrupted Marcus' thoughts and he dragged his eyes from the window that looked into the great expanse of space. Fingering the panel on his desk he answered crisply, "Yes?"

"Sending the daily learning books scores through."

"Excellent." Seating himself in the hard office chair that had been included in the office, Marcus tapped out a series of numbers that deactivated the security on his computer. Drawing up the charts, he waited while the teachers uploaded the statistics. Numbers bounced around as they were automatically compared and adjusted to the other classes. What it ended up showing him was a chart that showed the marks of every student in the IBS.

Studying the levels of scores, Marcus drew the averaging line and cut those who didn't make it. He grinned in satisfaction, the scores were beginning to level out. His hunting for the best was paying off.

"Are there any reports to make?"

A voice replied, "The usual, petty fights in the halls, arguments in classes. Usual things for normal children of this age."

Marcus wouldn't know, he didn't have kids and he avoided contact with them at all costs. He let his officials deal with the kids. "What about Hunter Correlli?"

"He's as normal as they get. You wouldn't even know him if it weren't for that incident on board the Atrox."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"Can I ask why, sir?"

"He said something to one of the doctors, and I quote 'That is why I came – to fit in.' If that doesn't concern you, I don't know what does."

There was a pregnant silence, obviously considering his words, "Sir, I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean by that. Why should that concern you?"

"If he's trying to fit in, he's not trying to do his best. He'll be as inconspicuous as possible. Which means that he knows exactly what he's doing, he's blending in and in order to do that, means that he knows exactly how well people will do on a test and to do that means that you have to know everything on the test to choose which ones to get wrong or right. Do you see what I'm getting at now?"

"But then again, you could be just looking at it wrong. He could be just average – like everyone else."

"I doubt it very much."


	5. Chapter Five

A/N: I have to thank the few that read this story. I was seriously ready to put this one on the shelf (I get discouraged easily when no one reads my stuff), so thanks for reading the story and please give me some feed back! I was reading over the chapter one (the posted version), don't know how this happened but it's different from the one I have on my home computer. So, just to get rid of some confusion Corey in chapter one is Hunter. Another thing I noticed was that Marcus's last name changes. It's supposed to be Marcus Render (I believe I put Arben at one point). Hopefully that didn't mess things up too much for you. Thanks again!

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Three months of vigorous training had turned their soft childish figures into firm muscle more appropriate for an adult. Hunter didn't mind the change so much, it gave him strength, which was exactly what he needed. In order for him to be neutral under the visage of the teachers, he had to be like everyone else, and everyone else was getting stronger. Anything to make him seem like everyone else he did. He rigged his tests, well aware of the high averages despite never being shown the test marks for any test for any student. If anyone looked up his record, it would be perfect...except for that one incident and the other on the shuttle.

"Been a good boy, eh Hunter?"

He looked up from the plasma screen he was studying from. He didn't need to study, but it was what everyone else did. He needed to fit in. "I've been the norm, what about you, Toren. Heard you got in another fight, what's this make it? Third, fourth one this month?"

Toren's chest puffed out slightly, "Ah good, my name's bein' spread."

Hunter snorted and dialled down his screen, "It hasn't been attached to anything good."

"What's that suppose' to mean?"

Shrugging, Hunter continued to put away the computer equipment in its designated pouches on his uniform, "It's all been bad, fighting, not doing what you've been ordered to do." He paused and looked Toren in the eye, "Things that won't be noted with approval."

Poking a finger into Hunter's chest, Toren sneered, "At least I ain't a wimp. I go about gettin' noticed, teachers are bounds to take notice of how I can hold m'own." Just to prove his point he punched Hunter's shoulder hard. "You know what I think? Those stories 'bout you beatin' that kid senseless is all just a ruse. You ain't nuthin', y'hear?"

"I hear." Toren grinned and relaxed somewhat, all he wanted was control over others, it would get him nowhere unless he earned that respect. Hunter would give it to him knowing very well that it was false. Hunter smiled back, appearing sheepish, but if Toren had looked closer he would have noticed that there was steel flashing in his eyes, "Yeah, don't know how it spread that it was me in that fight, but..." he shrugged, "people just want to make trouble."

Bobbing his head like a chicken would, Toren smirked, "I was so wrong 'bout you, usually I'm a good judge of character, you just a wimp."

Hunter shrugged again, he didn't need to be pulled into another fight. He already knew what the outcome would be, he'd win and be sent back earthside – exactly the thing he didn't need, there were too many answers up here for him to find out.

Their wrist-com's chirped and they both looked down to read the text message that flashed across the small plasma screen. "Damn, those classes just don't end, need to find a way to cut 'em or somethin'." Toren sauntered off aimlessly, making an indirect line to the exit. Hunter watched him leave then released his breath, he really had expected Toren to attack him – he had his reputation alright, for fighting kids that couldn't fight back...or in Hunter's case, _wouldn't_ fight back.

"Hey Hunter, that brag bothering you?" It was Daryl, standing ready with feet apart and fists on hips, "You just give me the word and I'll beat him senseless!"

Hunter smiled but shook his head, "Nah, you don't worry about him. He's digging his own grave. I'll put money on it that he'll be sent earthside in less than a week." He jogged over to join her so they could walk together to their classes.

Daryl tapped a finger to her chin, "I'm going to say two weeks. How many credits you putting on it?"

"You sure you want to do this? I've never lost a bet."

She punched him, but nothing nearly as hard as Toren's, hers was all in jest, "Neither have I, so how much?"

"Forty."

She lifted her brows at that, but replied anyways. "Deal. And you better be good for it otherwise I'll be beating _you_ senseless." Holding out her hand for him to shake, she added, "Not that I need the credits, been acing my tests regularly so the credits have been stacking up."

Then they were both back to seriousness as they entered the class. Another month of screen testing and then they'd be getting down to the real chore of school and...the Battle Room, but for now, these tests were what decided whether or not you'd be staying. No more ships had come for the last month, but people were being regularly dropped. Hunter couldn't help but wonder how many were going to be here, but then, there was always next year – had to be room for them.

-

_"He's too old for the school, Marcus."_

_"Only by a year or two, you're just using that as an excuse because he's making you jittery."_

_"Try three years."_

_"Ok. Three years older than the average. There are still plenty of kids who are near his age."_

_"He's still older than the next oldest by seven months. He's too sharp; it's scaring the teachers now that you've pointed out what he's been doing. He's too old."_

_"Give him a try. You may not like what he's shown us so far, but I think he's smarter than any of us believe. Right now, he's just average. Earth-side, people would think he's brilliant. He's just trying to blend in, trying not to distinguish himself. But if you want, I'll rig something up just to prove my point."_

_"Like what?"_

_"On his next exam, give him a different one than the others, and have dividers separating all students from one another so they don't peek and cheat off one another. But make sure that his test is a lot harder; in fact, make it a series of tests. Each progressively harder, I want to know how good he is."_

_"What then."_

_"Bring the marks to me."_

_-_

Taking his customary seat next to Sean, Hunter pulled out his stylus and began doodling on his desk screen. Or at least that's what it looked like to most people around him. In truth, he was creating diagrams he'd seen in the IBS's historical archives. He had an unquenchable thirst to understand how battles were fought and won. And that was the problem, no two battles had been fought the same, there was always a different tactic. Ender had been a genius.

The teacher came in carrying her teaching console under one arm, she didn't need to say anything, she just sat down at her desk and activated her computer, but instead of having their tests pop up on their own screens, metal dividers slid up from the sides the desks blocking the view of those around them.

Hunter stopped his diagram from rotating to note this new course of action. Saving the diagram, he straightened in his seat. Test time.

"You have exactly an hour and a half to complete the test."

A few kids groaned, complaining about the screens.

Hunter felt himself grinning, the tests were so easy, how could they complain? His screen flashed and the test appeared. He read the first question over - his grin faded, these were definitely getting harder, but it wasn't too much of a concern. He knew the content, didn't matter how, he just did. It was like he'd always known the stuff. He just knew it – everything that was presented to him he knew.

Four months. Time seemed to fly up here. Hunter couldn't think of a time on earth when time had gone so fast. It just didn't seem right, but at least it meant an end to the screening tests. They were all stuck here for the duration of the Battle School Training. That was a long ten years ahead of them. But that was ten years away from Howard, it wasn't so bad just for that reason alone.

On the other hand, that was going to be ten years with Toren. For the first time ever, Hunter had lost a bet, well, technically they had both lost. Toren's middle name was trouble, he was sure of it, but no matter how many fights Toren got into he was never sent earthside. It didn't make sense. Why would they keep such a potential killer onboard? He'd already sent three kids home paralyzed. Daryl couldn't make any sense of it either, but she had cast it aside. But it did. There was a game afoot and it was being played at the higher levels of commandment.

Staring blindly at his screen, Hunter had to mentally pull himself away from those thoughts. The IBS was supposed to have fixed all those power issues that had been in the last station. There are always loop holes, a voice whispered in his mind. Yes. Always.

Ten minutes to lights out and as usual, the rest were lounging in their room, relaxing from a strenuous day of tests and physical activities. Hunter pulled his pillow over to prop his back up so he could search the IBS archives for more stuff on the battles. He needed to distract himself from those lingering thoughts of the power struggles.

He was particularly interested the battle vids. The wars before Ender's time were all censored and cut to bits, but the footage of Ender was untouched. It was impossible to be in Ender's head to understand all the details, but it was possible to learn what the gist of it was.

"I'm so sick of these tests. It's like they're trying to test a monkey. Do they think we're really that dumb? Today's test in geophysics was cinch, I'll be surprised if I found out I didn't ace that test!" Sean was always complaining, but that was likely because he was a genius and knew it. Nothing was up to his standards. Everyone nodded their heads in agreement to what he'd just said, all except Hunter.

"Oi, Hunter, how'd you find today's geophys test? Easier than usual or what?"

Looking up from the scene playing out before him on his screen, Hunter shook his head, "No. Definitely harder. It was on stuff that wasn't even covered in the previous class."

Sean looked at him as he was a stranger, "Come again?"

Hunter set aside his screen to face the group, "There were questions on there that shouldn't have been till like the next chapter, even the next year. It was way beyond what we've learned in the classes so far." He stopped, the faces before him told him exactly what he feared. They were confused, not understanding a word he was saying. And it was then that Hunter realized that the ones 'up there' with all their power struggles had singled him out; they knew he was holding back. He'd thought it strange that none of the others had complained that the tests had gotten progressively harder over the past month. Now he knew why, they had given him a separate test each time.

"I've been played."

Some of the others snickered.

"I've been getting different tests than you guys."

Sean laughed, "Yeah, it would sound like it. Maybe they think you're special."

"You don't seem very surprised."

"Nah, remember what they did in the first Battle School? All tricks and lies and deceit... no reason why this place is any different. If they think you're better than the rest, then good luck to you, 'cause they're going to break you." He grinned and shrugged his shoulders at that point, seeming to find great amusement in Hunter's predicament, "But you really shouldn't care that much. I mean, we'll be going into the Battle Net soon. Room and Scape! You should be ecstatic!"

Hunter didn't answer and none saw his face. The lights had gone out.

-

"_You were right, Marcus."_

_"That's 'sir' to you."_

_"Yes sir. You were right, sir."_

_"I know. I've seen the results. He knew everything we threw at him and still managed keep a steady average score. Throw a real hard one at him next time, final year stuff. Then get him back on the regular programme. We'll have to figure something out about him later since he's so obviously ahead of everyone else."_

_"Yes sir."_

_"Is there anything else you'd like to add?"_

_"Well, I've done some digging. It wasn't really all that hard to find actually, but I've found some interesting stuff."_

_"Like what? And on whom have you been looking into?"_

_"Hunter Correlli, sir. It's all there to look at, wasn't restricted or anything."_

_"Well, what did you find?" _

_"He's Carl's son."_

_"Who?"_

_"Carl Bracken."_

_"Shit."_


	6. Chapter Six

A/N:  Sorry this took so long to come out!  Changed the title of the story too (Shadow Games), fit more with the story I think.

* * *

Chapter Six

"_Sir?"_

_"This is bad news. Get Commander Carter online he needs to hear this."_

_"Of the IF?"_

_"Who else?"_

_"I don't understand."_

_"It's not your business to, now get Carter!"_

_-_

Hunter let his gaze roam while the professor droned on and on about the dangers of zero gravity. He really didn't want to be here – they were about to enter the battle dome – the one area of the station that he didn't want to be near. He had a gut feeling that he was about to make a fool of himself, or make himself noticed in other ways.

Sean punched Hunter in the arm and nodded towards where a stiff suit hung, waiting for someone to encompass. Looked like it was going to be Hunter it would hold. Hunter reached for the suit and couldn't help be surprised at how light it was. For such a cumbersome outfit, it was, in truth, supple and light. _Not like the old ones_, he thought. Where had that thought come from? He'd never seen a Dome suit before. Frowning he couldn't help shake the feeling that he'd been in this situation before, but that was absurd, there was no other facility like this in all the Human Empire in space.

Another hit from his left this time dragged him from his thoughts, "You're not scaring out now? This is our first session in the Dome, I don't understand how you can be so...so" Daryl tapped her chin, searching for a word, "I don't know. You look so solemn, not scared, but almost bored, as if you've done this before."

Hunter lifted his brow and said with a touch of sarcasm, "Perhaps I have."

Daryl giggled, "Ha! We'll see once we're out there!"

"Is everyone suited up?" the professor yelled out over the heads of Hunter's group. "I know you're all excited, but I have another four groups to teach after you, so don't waste my time or yours." That got everyone's attention and before most of them knew it, were being ushered out into a section of the Dome for practice.

Essentially, the Dome was half a sphere that could be divided into sections when needed for practices and such. There were four of them on the IBS, two for the Room wars and two for the Scape modes. It was the Scape mode that they would be practicing this day. Room mode was when they would deal with complete zero G.

"Visors down!"

Hunter pulled down the plastic screen over his eyes. It was tinted a slight yellow, he supposed was for eye protection from stray ray beams. Eyes taking in the magnitude of the structure they were in, it all really started to sink in of just how large the IBS was. The Dome was currently divided into sixteen pie shapes for sixteen separate groups, each section was roughly the same area of a football field. Hunter couldn't imagine having even half of the Dome reserved for Scape mode battles.

"Well damn." Daryl lifted her brows and shook her head in amazement. Through the microphone system built into the helmet her voice sounded tinny and false, he was surprised that the IBS couldn't have even put out good quality speakers for this. The expression was still behind the words and it was still easy enough to identify the speaker. "I can't believe how big this thing is. And there are four of them!"

Hunter grinned and experimented with his movements, the suit did very little to restrict his actions. Slung around his hips was a utility belt that contained a polyester cord entwined around a fine wire, micro filaments for setting up communications bases, and a hand held laser pistol – not real of course.

"Guns out." The Professor led the excited gaggle of kids around the area, lecturing them all the while on the rudiments of how the Scape battle was played. The gravity levels would vary from time to time to make them have to adjust to foreign 'planets' and the landscape would be different every time. No Scape was ever the same...unless it was programmed to do so. Essentially, Scape mode was training them for when they were to go against the Corv's on distant planets. Where they would be required to set up communications systems and bases, and for the first few months, they wouldn't even be pitted against an enemy – those came later when they were more adjusted to the gist of the game. And it was exactly that, a game.

"You know, I don't understand why they need to train us when the Corv's aren't even supposed to be here for another century or so. That gives us a whole hundred years at least. If we have the technology to build something like this, why can't we make drones to send?" It was Tyler. A methodical thinker and for the most part shy, but whenever he had something to say, it was, in effect, dampened everyone else's mood.

He continued, "I mean, we will be put into cryo, but why not send robots or something?"

Why were humans needed?

"Robots? I can't believe you said that! Those are old-tech man! It's all about the AI nowadays." People laughed at Daryl's outburst, which caused the professor to rebuke them by rapping them smartly on their helmets.

"Pay attention. The practice targets are ahead. I'll let you shoot on them, then we have to get you building your base," the professor said. His visor was all black so no one could see his face. Hunter suspected it was more than that, it was a screen to communicate with teachers throughout the IBS.

Tramping through the fictional landscape proved to be more fun than any of them expected. To show the range of the Dome's functions, every few yards would change to another gravity setting. Some were so strong that their feet sunk inches into the black metal beads that made up the land, others were so weak that they took one step and bounced a few feet into the air. Each time a change occurred, the professor would show them how to adapt their suits.

"Professor Etwin? What happens if we shoot and hit one of our team mates?"

The blackened visor turned to Daryl and replied, "You're frozen, or dead if it is real life." He was about to say more, but his posture froze and the audio link that he had with the students was momentarily silent.

-

"_Etwin, are you at the targets yet?"_

_"No, sir."_

_"When you do get there, get Hunter to go first. I'll run the program – all you have to tell him is that he has to hit the targets and that they'll be appearing and firing at him from all directions."_

_"Very well sir."_

_-_

Professor Etwin breathed; Hunter had been waiting for that. He knew that someone in a high position had just talked to Etwin, the communications link had quietly been diverted.

"Hunter, if you will please step forward. I'll use you as an example for the rest of the class. Don't be afraid to make mistakes," Hunter could hear the kind smile behind those words. "Just do the best you can."

Best? He would do his utmost standard, his best was too good.

Removing his pistol from the holster, Hunter tested the weight of it in his hands; solid. Raising it, he half pressed the trigger, activating a red target beam. Looking back to the professor, he nodded once to show that he was ready.

Holographic images appeared from behind the moulded landscape, none of them were human in their proportions. Hunter could only assume that these were what the Corvedic's looked like. He had fired at five and watched them dissolve with bland disinterest before he was consciously aware of what he was actually doing. Five for five shots. Six. Seven. Fifteen. The numbers grew.

It was as if he'd been born with a gun in his hand so familiar he was with it. The images began to dart around, moving targets, firing at him, causing him to roll and duck for cover. Not once was he hit, nor did he ever fire more than the given holograms that appeared. Every shot he made was true.

Sweat dripped down his neck and still he went on, his breathing was laboured; and still, he fought on.

-

"_Are you seeing this Marcus?"_

_"It's being recorded."_

_-_

It became a dance for Hunter, a step here, his shooting arm swirling about there and everywhere. The turning point for when he was aware of anything to absolutely everything was so subtle that it took him by surprise when he began to see himself from another's vision and another. He was able to see the scene around him by his groups eyes, he didn't even need to look behind him now to see those holograms flicker to life.

"Hunter, you can stop now."

Hunter did and let his arms fall to his sides, but he didn't lose the tenseness in his posture. The last of the holographic images faded away and the Scape was once more back to normal. Holstering his gun, he took a deep breath and forced his muscles to relax – the danger was gone. Spinning around he flipped his visor and grinned boyishly, feigning the amazed and overjoyed look in his face. "Boy! That was fun!" In truth, he'd just done what he'd been told to do, there was nothing more to it than that.

His group laughed, Professor Etwin was frozen again, obviously in another conversation with someone.

Daryl came over and slapped him on the back, "How'd you do that? It was incredible! It was like watching a pro at his work or something." She grinned and punched him, "Mind you, if you can do it, then obviously any of us can do it, eh?"

His comradeship with his group was all a lie, an endless act of bullshit. But he had to fit in. _Fit in? _Another voice screamed in his head, _If the staff of the IBS doesn't know about your abilities they will in a few minutes! What were you thinking doing all of that?_ What had he been thinking? He'd just let himself go, no constraints, just taking the pleasure of his success. Would he still fit in? Or would he be set aside?

The answering reply was quick and simple. No. He'd never fit in like he did before.

Forcing the smile to remain fixed on his face was probably one of the hardest things that Hunter had ever done. Laughing and joking with the others as they watched one after another make a fool of themselves in attempt to copy Hunter, he didn't care if he sounded hollow, but his mind was elsewhere. Professor Etwin had left the group and a young man had come to watch over them. Not that any of these kids needed watching.

"Time's up you guys. Go and clean up." The man straightened up from where he'd been sitting. Looking around him conspiratorially, he winked at the group and said quietly, "You guys should think of a name for your group. This'll be your army in the Battle Net, for both Scape and Room." He grinned when the group collectively held their breath in excitement. "Ok, breathe. Now off you go."

Amid the excited chatter that was elicited, Hunter gloomily trudged back, a sense of dread sliding like oil down his back.

-

The mess hall was louder now than it had been when they had first arrived at the IBS. Animated actions aided in venting some of the energy that burned in each of them and yet they were still able to keep the keyed up talk. Hunter felt like the eye of a tornado – he was calm and steady unlike the vortex of action around him.

Groups sat to assigned tables where they weren't allowed much contact with other groups, supposedly to keep the kids from getting attached to too many people that may be killed in action in the future.

"Hey Hunter, how's this for a name for our army? The Dragons!"

"Dragons? That's pretty...unique."

Scott laughed, "Damn straight."

"Ender's army was named Dragon Army," somebody shouted.

"Well now everyone is going to name their army that, Stupid. You just had to shout it out loud," Scott complained, "It was a good name too, would have been lucky."

Hunter thought otherwise. He knew his history. Dragon army had suffered such bad losses that the name had been pulled from the listings. That is, until Ender came into the picture and it wasn't a lucky name even then. It was the commander of the army that made it what it was.

"Well if Dragons are in the running, we might as well be the Unicorns or mermaids!" another jested.

"That's a good one Brandon."

There was a lull in the ideas and Hunter quietly interjected his idea, "We need a strong name. It doesn't have to be an animal or thing. It could be a goal. Something like Freedom Fighters or Peace Platoon."

"Peace Platoon? So we'll be known as the PP's? Hunter, great idea, but we still need something better than that. Something stronger. We want a name that invokes fear. A name that tells others exactly what we are and what they are. We're the hunters and they're the prey." Hunter's words from what felt like an age ago. Were they mocking him? No, their faces were serious. He didn't know what to say.

"Predators. You're saying we're predators."

"Exactly."

-

"_Marcus! You're the last person I'd have expected a call from. How's the IBS running?"_

_"Just as planned, but that's not the issue here, Carter. We've got some big problems here. I've just got the news from one of my men. We've got Bracken's kid here."_

_"Corben? Nah, he's here. Earthside."_

_"Not Corben. The other."_

_"You're shitting me! Hunter disappeared years ago."_

_"I'm telling you, I got him here." _

_"Have you told Carl?"_

_"No."_

_"Good."_

_"And your man?"_

_"He'll be dealt with."_

_"This can't leak. I'm afraid this is beyond even my control. The Government will have to clean this mess up since it's their's to begin with." There was a pause, then Carter continued, "We all thought he was dead, Marcus, that kid is supposed to be dead."_

_"Does anyone know what really happened?"_

_"Don't know. Carl's wife, Michelle, had the kid – apparently, according to the records, she was taken to a base with Hunter and Corben, she turned her back for one minute and then he was gone, taken presumably. Later, a woman with a baby was found shot down a little from the building. The kid's body was beyond recognition, pulverised, Michelle forbade anyone to due any blood tests – to just let her baby be buried in the ground. We all just assumed that she was grief-stricken. I now know that it was otherwise."_

_"How old was Corben at the time?"_

_"Maybe five? I think there was about three and a half years between the two."_

_"So it's possible that Corben knew what happened. Perhaps he even saw the whole thing."_

_"Possibly, but in any case, it doesn't matter any more. Hunter is alive and breathing and exactly where we wanted him from the day he was conceived."_

_"He's no Ender."_

_"No, he's the ender to all ends."_


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven 

Corben beamed brightly and a flash of light captured the moment. He smirked a little and the boyish glee faded from his face. It was so routine now this birthday thing…and he was only just thirteen. Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and blew out the candles placed there – all thirteen of them. His parents and friends alike cheered and clapped their hands.

His father slapped him on the back, "What? No girlfriends for you this year?" His friends laughed.

Corben shrugged and grinned in good nature, "Heck, I've got them all lined up." Nodding his head towards the cake, he added, "That tells me nothing – I'd rather pave my own road than leave it to fate."

An approving look from his father and Corben glowed.

Michelle swooped in and kissed her son on the cheek, "So, what did the birthday boy get?"

Corben shifted uneasily in his seat and self-consciously wiped the kiss from his face. He could never trust his mother after what she had done and it showed in his every action. "I don't know mom."

She looked pained when he wiped is sleeve across his cheek, but she said nothing and put on an extra bright smile, "Well, I'm sure you're just dying to find out now aren't you?"

"Sure mom."

"Ok boys, let's go into the other room and open presents!"

Corben's friends fled for the other room, eager to have their present opened first and to see who had given their friend the best gift. Everyone, including Carl with his video camera.  
"Corben?"

"What is it mom?" He slowly turned to face his mom.

"What is wrong?"

"You already know the answer to that." He didn't need to elaborate. His answer was always the same.

Tears pooled in her eyes, "If only you could understand…"

Temper flaring, Corben shouted, "Understand what? You gave him away! And now he's dead!" Corben could feel his own tears welling up and he angrily swallowed the lump in his throat. He had seen and heard everything, but not even his father believed him. His own mother had let someone take his little brother.

Carl poked his head in, he'd heard what Corben had said, and his eyes were now cold, "Not now you two."

Corben glared angrily at his mother before he stepped into the adjoining room. His friends looked at him with their mouths open. Mind racing, Corben forced a sad look upon his face and shook his head, "Mom gave my gerbil away to some neighbour and their cat got it."

His friends laughed and those of who knew him better as for not having a pet gerbil laughed as well, but their eyes were full of confusion.

-

Sergeant Steven Gray knocked on the white door and peered nervously around him before facing the door again. It was dangerous being here, his life was on the line and he knew it. But Carl was a friend, one who'd saved him many years ago – he owed him this.

Michelle opened the door. "Steve! It's been years since I've seen you!"

"Hello Michelle. Is there any chance that Carl's here?" He cocked his head to the side and listened, "Sounds like you got a party going on."

Michelle smiled and nodded, "Yes, Corben is thirteen today."

"Thirteen! Jesus time flies."

Her eyes took on a calculating gleam, "On IF business or are you on break?"

"A little of both. Mostly, I'm just returning a favour."

"Ah, yes. Carl has had so many favours returned." She didn't explain her words, despite Steven's curious look. Shouting over her shoulder, Michelle called out, "Carl, Steven's here to see you!"

Carl dashed out into the foyer, his shirt covered in colourful bits of ribbon and bows. "Steven, great to see you!"

Michelle kissed her husband on the cheek and smiled sweetly. "I've got a phone call to make." She added playfully, "You two go out back and have a drink. I'll bring some cake out once I've made my call."

"Sounds good." Turning back to Steven, Carl grinned widely. "Wow it's been an age since I've seen you last! Come on in, we'll go out back to get away from these kids."

Stepping inside, Steven followed Carl through the immense house to the back garden terrace. Carl went to the patio fridge and pulled out a beer then passed another to Steven. Then seating themselves at the glass topped table, they together sighed and toasted to the other's health.

"Where to start? It's been years since I've seen you last." Carl laughed and shook his head, "Too long, my old friend."

"Yes. And it's because of our friendship that I'm here now." Carl raised a brow curiously and Steven couldn't help but notice how his friend had aged. Lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes and there was a touch of grey at his temples. He'd age a lot more by the time this thing was through. "There's trouble at the IBS. Plots are running and plans are afoot. The government's involved now."

Carl shrugged, "The government was always involved. They supported that stupid thing from the beginning. Kids are not the answer to creating a super army. Lives will still be lost. We have the technology to send droids that can be manned by men with virtually no drag time. So why send human flesh to war?"

"It's more than that. I think that there is something so huge involved that the IBS is just a cover." Steven looked down at his hands, the look in Carl's gaze was too unsettling.

"Get it out Steven."

"Your son. Hunter -"

Carl cut him off, "He's dead."

"Yes, well. That's beside the point. He was genetically enhanced…how?"

Carl stood and began to pace, speechless for the moment, but it was clear as glass that he was angry. "How did you find out about that? Those were supposed to be restricted files. So how the hell did you get a hold of them?"

"I have connections." He set aside his bottle and stood as well, "The truth is Carl…there's no easy way to say this…the truth is, is that your son isn't dead." He paused to make sure that it had sunk in. It had, Carl stumbled to a stop and collapsed in his seat. "I know this is a shock to you Carl, but I need to know what they did to Hunter, because I think the IBS is a ruse to get him to train there so that they can find his strength's and weaknesses. Because if they've done what I think they've done to Hunter, than he isn't just human, he's a weapon that can save humanity, or destroy it depending on whose side he's on."

Carl suddenly lunged at Steven and grabbed him by the neck, "Why wasn't I told this sooner? Why was this kept from me? He's my own son!"

-

Corben heard the shattering glass bottle outside and pulled back the curtain a little to peek out. His father had some man by the throat. Glancing over his shoulder, he decided his friends wouldn't miss him for the time being as they were caught up playing with the new toys he'd received. Sneaking out of the room and tip toeing down the hall he cracked the sliding door open partially.

-

Steven gasped, unable to breathe or speak, he kneed Carl in the groin then pushed him away. "Jesus Carl!" he choked out, "Let me finish!" He coughed once then pushed himself up and went over to where Carl was rolling and groaning on the ground. Reaching down he pulled Carl into a sitting position.

"Marcus Render is in charge of the project. As it is, I'm not supposed to be here. I'm technically still aboard the IBS. But we being long time acquaintances, I thought I owed you this."

Carl lowered himself back to the ground and groaned. "Where is he then?"

"Hunter? He's on the IBS." Steven stopped, he didn't know what he could say, as it was, his thoughts were all speculation. He had no proof, every turn of event could have been the way life turned, but it could have all been a set up too. "He's been under close observation. Everyone has noted him or now has been notified to keep an eye on him."

"Isn't he too old for the IBS?"

"Howard signed him up…well, forced him to be entered. He would have been refused, but he had a blood sample from Hunter. It's not the same DNA encodement that was originally on file, but it was close to who Marcus thought it was so he accepted him. If it hadn't been the person he'd thought it was, he would have just sent Hunter back to earthside." He looked Carl in the eye and added, "Understandably, I was sceptical that it was Hunter as I was by your side when we recovered what we thought was Hunter's body eight years ago."

Carl reached out for his beer bottle but came up short, Steven got up and fetched it for him. "This is a lot to take in, I know, and I apologize now because it is partially my fault that Hunter was discovered. Hunter fit in perfectly. He was bright, but he wasn't the best. Or at least he made himself look that way. He did get in a fight at the beginning." Steven frowned but continued, "Said some odd things too, come to think of it. But other than that he was as average as they got; good enough to stay and not be sent back to earth. That is, until I mentioned this to Marcus, after that he began rigging the tests. Then we saw that he was far above average. He was brilliant. I'm sure he could have aced those tests, but he always got an average score to those of the rest of the class. He knew stuff that had never been taught. He was doing final year tests that very few seniors would be able to do. Hell, I couldn't even done as well on some of things as he did."

Carl nodded, seeming to understand perfectly.

"So I did some digging to see if I could find out who his real parents were. I didn't expect to find what I did – blew me right out of the water. Hunter Correlli was none other than your son, a son who was supposed to be dead. I went to Marcus with this and he immediately got me to link up with Commander Carter. He knew it all along, why else would he take a kid who was roughly three years older than the average? He acted surprised enough though, just a ruse for my benefit I'm sure."

"Where's Howard now?"

"Mr. Correlli is dead. Shot in the head – they say suicide, but it's an IF type of gun that bullet came from. Had it checked out personally."

"So they're trying to keep this under."

"Yes."

"You'll be next."

"I know."

For the first time, Carl studied Steven's face. What he saw there was fear. A fear so deep that it chilled Carl's bones. "All I can tell you about Hunter is that he is genetically enhanced. He's almost a machine, he's so perfect."

Steve turned that thought over in his head, "He's got alien DNA doesn't he?"

Carl nodded.  
"Corvedic DNA."

Again Carl nodded. "We found a Corvedic probe ship hiding in the shadow of Saturn, we chased it down and captured the being aboard. We studied it. It's got incredible capabilities. Abilities that even I cannot explain, explanations that will never be found…the project was soon turfed."

"Before or after Hunter's own DNA was combined with the Corv's?"

"After."

"So the government knows then."

"They were backing the project, Michelle was the one who brought it up actually. Strange since there are so many other children out there that we could have used. Why my own son?"

There was a lengthy pause in the conversation while each let the information settle into their minds. Steven got up and fetched another beer to replace the one that had been knocked over. Popping the top he took a deep swig. He was about to take another before he stopped and lowered the bottle once more. "Something's just occurred to me. You'd have thought Michelle would have brought out that cake by now."

"You would think." Carl agreed slowly.

-

_"Marcus Render." _

_"'One moment please.'" _

_"Hello, this is Marcus Render." _

_"Carl Bracken knows." _

_"It was Gray, wasn't it? Shit. I should have dealt with him sooner." _

_"He's here now. You can still deal with him here…now." _

_"What about you? Does either of them know your connection?" _

_"No. My cover is safe, but I'll not have my son hurt-" _

_"One already is." _

_"-nor my husband." _

_"That'll be a little harder to promise." _

_-_

"Shit. Carl, I don't even know what to do. I'm sorry, I'm suspicious of everything and everyone. Hunter will be the focus of the government's plans now with the Corv's. The staff at the IBS have all seen the footage of him in the Battle Net. His Scape fighting is incredible. He doesn't even need to see them to shoot them. I just don't understand how the government or the IF think that Hunter can save humanity. He's just one kid."

"He's my son."

"He's your son and the son of a race that is bearing down on the Human Empire. He's – " Steven felt the shot even before he heard the gun fire. Blood frothed to his lips even as he breathed: a punctured lung. "Carl…run!" Carl looked up in surprise.

Another shot rang out, this one silenced. There was more than one person here. The spot on the front of Steven's shirt was joined by another and they blossomed at an unnatural speed. They'd bleed him to death if they couldn't make the final shot count. Obviously they were firing from some distance. "Carl! Damn it, run!"

Jumping to his feet, Carl dove for Steven as another shot rang out. They tumbled to the ground - the shot had just grazed Steven's temple. "Carl, get the hell out of here." But instinct had taken over Carl and his steely gaze searched the surrounding houses for open windows. Hooking his arms under Steven's armpits, he dragged his friend towards the back door.

-

Corben shook himself out of the shock that had settled in. The first shot that had been fired he heard loud and clear, it was a wonder that everyone wasn't rushing to the window now. But the second, he hadn't heard that one, only seen the evidence of it take a chunk of brick out of the barbecue.

He needed to get his friends out before they were possibly hurt. Obviously these people shooting at Steve didn't care whether they hit the large propane tank. But he couldn't claim that he'd heard gun fire, that would only make them panic. If he was sick though…

Corben ran back through the house to the large family room where the others were half concerned with his whereabouts and the games at hand. Slowing his pace to a walk, he staggered in and held his stomach…he did his best to look ill. "Hey guys…I don't feel too good. I feel like puking my guts out, I think I've got food poisoning…if you don't want to get it, you should go home."

The others looked at him in surprise.

"Yeah, you don't look too good man."

Michelle, well aware of the happenings occurring outside, argued back, "Oh nonsense. You've just had too much cake. Just sit down and play with your friends and let yourself digest." Her eyes were unreadable, but her body was tense.

The boys looked uncertain and to support his words Corben gagged and made retching sounds. He had to suppress his laughter as his friends took a step back.

"Yeah…ok." They looked at him suspiciously, but didn't argue, "See ya later Corben. At school man."

A quick glance to his mother and he could feel the resentment rolling off of her. Undoubtedly his friends left due partly to the animosity between him and his mother, it would be hard to ignore. Once the last person had closed the door behind him, Corben made for the back, only to be roughly grabbed by the arm.

"What do you think you're doing, you little brat? I've been planning this party for you for weeks! What have you got to say for yourself young man?" Her grip was tightening; she was obviously trying to scare an answer out of him. But she had missed the part where he didn't care.

Whispering fiercely, Corben replied, "Go to hell. Hunter isn't dead." He watched her eyes take a new glint to them, a slow sinister smile spread across her perfect features. She said nothing, however, and Corben tugged his arm free and ran for the back yard.

"Dad!" His father and the other man were huddled behind the brick barbecue. Chips were missing from where shots had been made.

"Corben, get back into the house and into the basement!"

Corben opened his mouth to say something, but his father cut him off, "Don't argue with me, Corben. Just do as I say."

More shots rained down on where Carl was crouching and he cursed loudly when one grazed his shoulder. They were coming in closer. There was less time between the shot and the hit. No new phase guns for these gentlemen. They were going to get the job done the nitty gritty way, by using old-fashioned bullets. Ones that tore your flesh apart as they entered and left the body.

"Corben. You didn't listen to me!"

"Dad, come on!" Reaching imploringly from the safety of the door, Corben waved his father to run inside.

"I can't…I can't leave Steven, Corben." Carl looked apologetically towards what he had thought his only son. That moment was burned in his memory forever – everything seemed to slow down, the boom of the sniper rifles and the look of terror upon his son's face. Then another face appearing from behind. "Michelle! Get Corben out of here!"

A flash of light reflected off a deadly thin blade and before Carl could react, it was pressed to his son's throat. Almost sweetly, she ran her hand along Corben's cheek to let it eventually rest on his shoulder. "Step out into the open, Carl, and your son will live." Blonde hair fell over her shoulder and obstructed Carl's view of his son's eyes.

"Michelle?"

"They won't shoot you. They're after Sergeant Gray. Come out and your son will be spared." The tip of her blade bit into Corben's neck until a bead of blood was produced. She hated the feeling of Corben wincing under the pressure of her knife. But to save her family, this was the only way – Marcus would plough through her husband if Carl didn't leave the shelter of the barbeque soon. "Of course, we'll have to detain you to find out what Steven told you."

"I don't understand," Carl understood perfectly well. Steven's little remark about her earlier had him suspecting that her work for the government was more than just chasing down people who didn't pay their taxes. Which meant that everything he'd known was likely all just part of a bigger plan… one that involved his son. "Let Corben go. He's not part of this."

"Quite the contrary…he knows his brother lives."

"What has that got to do with anything?"

"He knows how Hunter disappeared, if he talks, then everything is forfeit. Just like how your life is." Michelle nodded towards Steven, "Look at how those who know things that they shouldn't are dealt with."

Carl glanced to his friend's prone body – only the faint gurgle was any proof that he was alive. "Hunter?"

"He's the key, Carl. He's always been the key. Just as we knew from the time we conceived him."

"We…" Carl echoed quietly. Yes, he'd known. At the time it'd seemed like the obvious thing to do. The project had been researched thoroughly for ten years – and arrogant as the group of them were, they figured that they knew everything. How wrong they'd been, Hunter was nothing that they expected.

Steven grabbed Carl by the arm to get his attention, "There is no choice in this, Carl. Go. Save your sons."

Then closing his eyes, Carl raised his hands and slowly rose to his feet. Everything slowed to half time; he stepped out into the open and his deliberate steps matched the measured pace of his heart. Three sets of eyes were on him and he felt the effect of all three tear at his soul. Steven looked on with relief, Corben with a fear no child should behold and Michelle. He'd never for all his years forget the hard diamond look in her face overlaid with a pain so immense he felt it lance through his own heart. He knew, and understood – she'd protect their son.

Something flashed in the light. It was so minute that under normal circumstances he wouldn't have noticed…but these weren't normal circumstances. He blinked and time resumed its natural speed, bullet included.


End file.
